A Third free porn video

A Third

By A. B.



(Tv, control, forced fem, cuckold, impreg., mf, Mm, oral, anal)

For years I've been what is known as a closet crossdresser. That is, I like to dress in women's clothing and I like the idea of being treated like a woman by a guy. I'm very passive sexually and, unfortunately, so is my wife.

My fetish took a new turn when I began to talk to other cd's on a chat program and, after a while, talking to the "admirers" who are interested in us. There are an amazing number of both of us - those who like dressing and those who lust after us that way. Strangely, neither the cd's or admirers think of it as being gay. I've found that most of the cd's feel as I do when I'm dressed. Feminine. And the admirers aren't interested in us because we have something "extra" but because we approach sex and intimacy with a "male" attitude rather than the cooler female attitude.

Maybe it is the female perspective of early life. Not being a slut or having a "bad" reputation. Not getting pregnant. For whatever reason, a man is much more open in his approach to sex and much less interested in long term involvement.

At any rate, my talks had resulted in meeting with a guy while dressed as a guy and, after discovering how nervous I was about going further (as in dressing for him and more) exchanged blow jobs and parted. He was familiar with the whole thing and wanted to see my panties. It just went from there. After he'd done me (and with a kind of fascination as to whether I could do a blow job at all), I felt turnabout was only fair.

A few weeks later, another admirer came to my house and literally seduced me after having me dress for him. Though not perfect, it was sexually rewarding and blunted my fear of being with someone. In fact, sexually it was fantastic for me and, since he came a gallon, I assume pretty good for him as well.

When my wife returned from one of her extended business trips, things went back to what I considered much more normal. A little sex but not particularly rewarding for me because she did only what I suggested, never taking the smallest amount of initiative. As a passive, this is nearly the same as masturbating. You know every touch and activity before it happens.

That didn't stop me from talking to people on the chat channel I'd gotten used to. Soon, I found an admirer nearby and found him interesting. In fact, I probably confided more in him than I did my own wife, who, at the very least, didn't know I liked dressing in women's clothes. Quite aggressive, my on-line friend had already drawn out all my very private pictures taken in stockings, skirts, blouses, and high heels. Those and the ones showing my bare bottom, panties, and "clittie".

He and I had role played meeting. We'd talked about fantasies of meeting that I hoped might come true if my wife went on another business trip. Then I told him about my wife's return.

***

I'm sure I understood the danger of what I agreed to even though we had carefully gone over the approach and all the "stop" points. Strangely, I thought it would be pretty "neat" if it worked as he thought it would but, knowing my wife better than anyone, I absolutely "knew" it wouldn't.

The very first thing in the plan was something I was sure would doom it. Michelle loves to do country dances and even to dance otherwise. But the only place we'd done it was at business conferences in the region where a country/western bar was a drawing card for the other participants. I'd never once taken her to the local tourist trap c/w bar and was sure she wouldn't be interested. The fact that she blinked, then smiled, then agreed to go surprised me a lot.

"I've always wanted to try some of the new things," she said. "I just never thought you'd want to." I should say that I'm not much of a dancer and feel a fool doing faster dances, though I do okay with slow dances. The other part is that generally, she doesn't drink very much and a bar is ... well, a bar.

As natives, of course we have the clothes and a western shirt added to my normal Levis wasn't much of a departure. I'd forgotten how great she looked in a full but short skirt, a tailored western shirt, and her cowboy boots. Even though her youthful shape has settled somewhat to thighs and bottom, she looked great. Her blond ponytail looked cute waving back and forth out of sync with her wagging bottom.

She was actually excited about going out.

The next "failing point" in what he'd suggested was that he would even show up.

As I danced a few of the shuffling c/w slow dances with Michelle, drank beers with her, and took a shot at stumbling through a couple of line dances, I looked around for someone meeting his description. In a way, there was an abundance of possibilities. Clean shaven, tall at about 6-2, muscular, pleasant. Several guys danced with her who could have been my friend but, since they didn't push to stick around or give me any indication they knew me, I didn't think he was there at all.

When I was sure that was true, a tall, good looking guy with a winning smile asked her to dance and winked at me before leading her to the dance floor. I watched as he swung her and dipped her and spun her in circles before leaving her at the table and returning to a place at the bar when he sipped at a bottle of beer and looked at us. I listened to Michelle tell me how much she had enjoyed the dances and watched her finish a beer.

Since the bar was too busy to get decent service, I took our empties to the bar and edged between him and a heavyset man with his back to me to order another.

"So, how am I doing so far," he said softly beside me.

"She enjoyed the dance," I said non-committally. He nodded.

"Just like we planned so far," he said with another wink. I found myself blushing as I really looked at him. Tall, as I said, his tailored western shirt was filled with a thick chest showing a thatch of graying dark hair in the open neck. The lower buttons were spread open with a little bit of a gut but not much. The Levis and boots he wore were appropriately worn. I could even see the worn part between his legs that told me he actually rode a horse and the boots were hardly touristy new.

"I don't think it will work," I said softly as I handed over money for the beers.

"We'll see," he answered. "No problem for you so far?" I shook my head and went back to the table.

It amazed me a little to watch my "non-drinking" wife upend the beer in her glass and drain part of the glass. She said the dancing was hard work and made her thirsty. I watched him walk across the room to lean over her chair and the table again to ask for another dance.

"I hope you don't mind," he said. "Your wife is just such a great dancer I hate to see her sittin' through a song."

"No problem," I said as she smiled at me. "I'm not very good at it." Michelle and I had never had a problem with either my sitting dances out regularly or her dancing with someone else. She really enjoyed it and she knew I really didn't. I grinned to myself, enjoying the fact that she was having fun, as I watched them move through the movements of another fast dance and her laughter when she missed a step.

I watched them through three dances before she obviously begged off with the body language of being tired. She told me how much she was enjoying herself as I watched him return to his place at the bar. A minute later, as I continued to watch him, I saw three beers appear in front of him before he picked them up and brought them back to our table. Without asking, he pulled up a chair backwards and straddled it next to Michelle.

"Hope you don't mind," he said to me.

"No. That's fine." He returned his attention to Michelle, talking and making her laugh. I loved to see her laugh and he was truly entertaining in a down home country way.

Just when I thought he must be just someone who happened to be at the bar rather than the man I'd talked to, Michelle had to go to the restroom, leaving us alone. For a moment, we talked quietly and drank our beers. "Call me Bob, okay?" he said. He'd mentioned on-line that was his name. I nodded. He leaned closer and, unbelievably, I felt his hand on my thigh just before he squeezed it. "Are you wearing panties tonight?" he whispered as I stiffened.

My head swung wildly to look back at the hallway to the bathrooms and the people in that direction who might see what he was doing. When I did, it must have moved my body slightly toward him. His hand cupped the front of my pants and I jumped again.

"Are you wearing your cute little panties?" he asked and, flushed, I shook my head. He moved his hand away, grinning at me, as Michelle returned to the table. As he stood up to take her out for another dance, I saw the very noticeable bulge in his tight jeans. I couldn't help wonder if it was for her or for me.

There wasn't any doubt in my mind how he was using it then in one of the western dances that moved a little broadly for the woman and bent her middle against him as he held her hand back behind himself. Obviously, he was an outstanding country dancer, having now gone through a repertoire of half a dozen different types of steps. Equally obvious, she was having a great time keeping up with him.

Her face flushed with the exercise and, perhaps, a little stimulation, they returned to the table and chattered loudly intermixed with a lot of laughter. I couldn't believe that she actually almost chugged the full glass of beer, refilled it from the bottle, and continued to sip at that. She'd always k**dingly said that she was a cheap date because if she had more than two drinks, she began getting giddy. By happenstance, that giddiness almost always translated into her being unusually turned on.

What he'd told me when this idea had come up while we chatted on-line was that she might really enjoy being obviously hustled by a good looking younger guy. It seemed that was true as she blushed at his compliments and giggled like a teen.

When the band began a slow dance, I took my opportunity to take Michelle to the dance floor. She could hardly refuse since we hadn't danced since the first couple, before Bob had asked for the first one.

It surprised me when I asked her if she was having fun and she hugged me tightly. "Oh yes, honey. This is great."

"You like Bob, don't you."

"God he is a great dancer," she said. "Really fun to be around." "I can tell."

"All I have to do is hang on. He does all the work."

"Maybe I ought to get him to give me lessons," I said. "Probably wouldn't work anyway. Wish I was that coordinated."

I thought about it. "Hell, I wish I was tall and good looking, too," I said with a chuckle. She didn't say anything but I didn't expect her to. The song ended and I debated staying on the floor or returning to the table. But I didn't get a chance to make the decision.

"Hey, man," Bob said from behind me as he took her into his arms. "You get to be with her all the time and I only get tonight." She laughed and I smiled as he smoothly moved them away with the new song. I watched as he moved her around the dance floor with his leg so firmly between her thighs that I could actually see most of her bare legs almost behind him.

I went and bought beers. As I leaned against the bar waiting, I watched him kiss her upturned mouth solidly and for far longer than a friendly peck.

***

She was panting and flushed as they returned to the table. Again, she upended the partially full glass of beer, refilled it from the sweating bottle, and continued to sip at it. In spite of the exercise of dancing, I could see the look in her eyes that showed me she'd had more to drink than she was used to.

Bob talked louder than before and laughed more, sparking her to laugh her tinkling laugh much more often and with less restraint. Sitting close enough beside her that his thigh pressed against hers, his arm over the back of her chair, she had a choice between sitting forward with elbows on the table (which allowed him to stroke her back) or back in the chair where the only place she could put her hand was on his heavy thigh. He sat casually slumped, his legs wide spread, and the still large lump showing in the front of the worn jeans. I noticed that though her hand rested on his leg, she didn't stroke it or clutch it with her fingers.

As we talked, Bob's arm went around her neck possessively and his hand dangled over her shoulder. Seemingly, he didn't know his fingers could as easily cup or tease her breast as tickle the skin of her upper arm but as we talked he looked into my eyes, winked, and told me as clearly as words that he knew exactly what he was doing.

As if the beers and their positions weren't enough, the conversation was filled with double entendre, little sexual references, compliments to her looks and body, and a few dirty jokes. Feeling my beers, too, I added to the sexually charged atmosphere rather than diverting it as I leaned heavily on the table.

When I took her back to the dance floor for another slow dance, she literally d****d herself against me, heat radiating from between her legs against my thigh, and kissed my neck.

"This is so much fun!" she said. "I really like Bob and he's a great dancer." "I can tell," I whispered into her ear. "I'm glad you're having fun. I hoped you would."

"Oh I am." She cuddled into my arms and squirmed against my body as she hadn't in a long time. "He kissed me," she said softly.

"That's okay," I said. "You like him. Did you like the kiss?"

She just mumbled against my neck as she nodded and hugged me tighter.

He was there to take her into his arms again as the song ended, moving her more broadly into the slightly faster next one. Sitting back at the table, I watched him hunch over her to speak into her ear from a fraction of an inch away as he looked at me. She nodded and giggled again and I knew his breath was caressing her ear in a way I knew had turned her on since the first time I'd done it before we were married.

In fact, as they danced on into the next slow dance, I saw him continue to talk to her that way and her bottom hump against his leg as his hand rested on the lower part of her short skirt. When they returned to the table after several songs, I could clearly see the wet vee at the front of her darker skirt between her legs.

Back in his sprawled position, I saw her hand squeeze his leg as she again drained her glass of beer. Her skirt was higher even than its short length would normally be if she was paying closer attention to it. I couldn't help watch the play of her legs as she laughed or the extent of bare thigh she was showing. I refilled her glass for her as Bob's hand covered her breast and off- handedly compressed it. I couldn't understand how he could continue the non-stop laughter and conversation as his thumb flicked across the hard nipple I could see rising from her shirt. She squirmed and licked her lips as her eyes twinkled.

Making no pretense that I didn't know what he was doing, she looked very directly at me as if asking if it was okay. I gave the unnecessary permission by simply smiling and staying silent about it.

Between sips of her beer, her hand went to his dangling wrist almost as if to hold his hand against her breast. I couldn't help but notice the disparity between her pale, tiny hand and his darkly tanned and hairy one against her maroon and white shirt.

"You know I'm staying here at the motel. Have you guys seen the rooms here?" he asked me. I shook my head. "Well, this place is about to shut down and I have some beers in the room. What do you say?"

I met Michelle's smile and shrugged my agreement.

***

Bob kept almost the same hold around her and over her shoulder with his hand grazing her breast as we laughed and walked to his room quite a way from the bar and restaurant section of the complex. The way she walked made her skirt swirl from side to side. His arm on her shoulder probably contributed more to her staggering than the beers but I knew she was feeling them, if for no other reason than she'd agreed to the nightcap she normally would have passed on. In fact, I knew she wasn't interested in the beer he'd offered. She just wasn't ready to go home or maybe she wasn't ready to end her relationship with Bob.

After he opened the door to his room, she twisted out from under his d****d arm and excused herself to the bathroom. Bob went to the mini-bar and pulled out three bottles of beer and opened them with the attached opener before bringing me one at the table where I'd dropped into one of the two chairs. He held onto the other beer as he leaned down, pressed his big hand against my hardness, and kissed me on the mouth.

"I've been wanting to do that all night," he said. "I can hardly wait for later."

Acutely aware of his closeness, his hand still cupping the front of my pants, I heard the water in the bathroom turn on, then off before the door almost immediately popped open.

"Bob? Do you have a robe or an extra set of clothes I can wear? I splashed on mine." Bob grinned, knowing as well as I that she'd noticed the big wet spot (from the inside rather than the outside) that half covered the front of her skirt. He winked at me as he straightened.

He grabbed a fresh white cowboy shirt from his closet and turned to the bathroom. "This is all I have but on you it'll probably be like a dress," he said as he handed it through the crack. "You should let your bra dry out, too," he added, grinning at me. "From the dancing you know."

"Oh. Yeah. You're right," I heard her say from the reverberating room. Coming back to the second chair at the table, he sprawled again and winked broadly at me. "I love a woman in a man's shirt, don't you?" he said softly.

"And you know what? When she comes back, I think you should go in and put her things on. Don't you?"

"God no!" I whispered. "It would stop everything if I did that." He shrugged.

"You do know what's going to happen, don't you?" he said softly. I thought I did and he could probably see it in my face. "I'll tell you anyway.

"We got her so she's turned on enough to try some new things now. She's wet from the beers and the dancing and having a stranger play with her tits and her ass. She's ready for anything.

"If you got dressed now, things would go pretty fast. But maybe you don't want them to go fast. So when she comes in, dressed in just my shirt, she's going to feel sexy. We'll start out slow. A beer. Some talk. But pretty soon, I'm going to kiss her and find out what those gorgeous tits feel like. It will only take a little before I'll have my fingers between her legs

"Maybe I'll suck her tits while I finger fuck her or maybe I'll get you to eat her pussy while we kiss." He leaned closer to me and gave me a rather evil smile.

"She's going to be ready for me to fuck her. You know that, don't you?" I did but could only nod jerkily. "Have you had the head of your cock in her womb? No I don't think you're long enough for that. But I am. And I'll cum in her womb if I do that and she might not like having me drive past her cervix. I understand it's pretty painful. But I will.

"Is she still fertile?" I nodded again. "Of course. She's not old enough for menopause. And I'll bet you had a vasectomy, didn't you? So she wouldn't have to worry about getting pregnant." It was true. I just looked down at my hands.

"I'm very potent. A curse. I'd be willing to bet that she'll get pregnant if I cum in her womb. There's not even a good way to get a spermicidal douche in there even if they worked. But I guess you could make decisions about what to do later. Have the k** and raise it as yours or have an abortion. Not my problem."

He sat back in the chair. "But really I was looking forward to a tight hot ass to fuck. Yours. I guess maybe I could just use hers instead. You have busted her anal cherry, right?"

I had tried once but as soon as I was in her, she insisted I get out. That it hurt too much. From just what I could see of his cock as a bulge in his pants, I knew she wouldn't be able to stand having it inside her.

"Well, I guess even if you have, my cock will be a little more than she's used to." He steepled his fingers in front of his chin and grinned. "Whatever happens, it'll be a lot of fun."

I panted with all the indecisions. It was bazaar that what I wanted worst was to do as he said, get up, go to the bathroom, put on her clothes, and have him make love to me.

"Okay, I know it's hard for you. You don't want to look like it was the whole plan. For you to wear her clothes, I mean. So what do you say? We'll play it pretty much like I said at the first. When I get to the place where it's a decision between fucking her pussy or ass, I'll tell you what I plan. Then I'll tell you to get dressed or I will. I'll mean it and if you don't run right off and put her things on, doll up nice for me, I'll do it. So you won't be faking."

The look that had been on his face changed as the bathroom door opened, the light flicked off, and Michelle walked back into the main room. In one of my shirts, she simply looked like she'd forgotten or ignored putting on a skirt or pants since we're very close to the same size.

In his shirt, the sleeves rolled up in a bundle just below her elbows, the shoulders hanging almost down to her elbows, and it's volume hiding her shape completely, she could have been wearing an ill fitting shirtwaist dress. The tails of the shirt were almost to her knees even if the bottom button was near the conjunction of her legs and opened across her thighs as she walked. The large neck was unbuttoned to a spot between her breasts and the collar stood up beneath her hair.

Since he and I were firmly planted in the only two chairs in the room, she backed onto the bed and sat on one curled leg in front of him. I saw that she had refreshed her makeup, both eyes and lipstick, and that there was no evidence I could see of either bra or panties. She hadn't been wearing stockings or socks and wasn't wearing the boots now. Her legs were beautifully bare to the vee of shirttails that was actually pointed toward Bob. I wondered if he could see between her legs.

She accepted a glass of beer, downing only half immediately, as things returned to virtually the same place they had left off in the bar. More sexually charged conversation driven, at least initially, by the way she looked in his shirt but masterfully moved on by Bob's stories and experiences. Relaxed, Michelle was soon sitting with her arms around her knees, her ankles crossed in front of herself at the edge of the bed. She played with the next button down the open front of the shirt as she sat on that one leg again but kept the other up. I could see the exposed insides of her breasts as well as the inside of the raised thigh. I was pretty sure Bob, sitting directly in front of her, could see glimpses of her pussy.

All of the signs of her being turned on were there. The way she poised her foot on the edge of the bed with the toes curled back and under. The way she moved the upper leg almost as if to stroke herself by rubbing the thighs together. The way her hand moved at the front of the shirt, not quite caressing her own breast.

And, though he remained leisurely sprawled in the chair with an arm on one of the chair's arms and the other on the table to hold the beers he drank, the hard lump of his cock was always totally visible either between his conjunction and up almost to peek out of the waistband of his pants or, worse after a trip to the bathroom, down the inside of one pantleg halfway to his knee.

As he noticed every movement and signal from her, she saw the lump in his pants and licked her lips nervously as she did.

The conversation and the lustful looks continued almost painfully long as I thought about how I was going to react to what I knew was going to happen.

***

I took note that he was very good at reading people. When I noticed that Michelle's attention was lagging and she was probably feeling how late it was as well as the beers, he went to the TV and found the country radio station provided on it. She giggled as he pulled her up to dance and just watched as he quickly sat to pull off his boots and socks (so he wouldn't stomp her bare toes) and strip off his cowboy shirt (so the buttons won't rub).

For the first time, both of us saw the bared thatch of dark hair that covered his chest and dove down his stomach into the top of his pants at the big belt buckle. When he took her into his arms to dance, her arms up around his neck, I saw the hair extended less thickly across his upper back. Never taking her hand and both her hands over his shoulders, he lifted her onto tiptoes with his hands on her bottom. Stretched that way, I could see the creases below her ass cheeks when he turned her back to me and winked.

Constrained by the small spaces around the beds and desk, even the country dance was slower and more like a hug. His continuous chatter remained as he guided her and, I couldn't help noticing, his heavy thigh was again pressed between her legs, preventing her from holding her legs together. From seeing before how nearly the tails of the shirt came to baring her pubic mound, I knew that stretched the way she was, there was nothing between her and the worn denim of his leg.

Under the circumstances, I thought it amazing that they were actually dancing and looking good doing it.

For a while, he only hunched over her enough to effectively hold her and she kept her head back slightly so they could continue talking. That, of course, had the effect of pressing her soft breasts against his lower chest and, when she mis-stepped, rubbed her nipples on either the inside of the shirt or his chest.

But in a few minutes, he hunched over her enough to speak more softly directly into her ear and her cheek nestled against his chest to keep the hair from tickling her. Once again, it didn't take long before her middle was humping slightly against his leg.

As if things were going too fast for him and with a change in songs, he moved her into the more energetic ins and outs of a different style of country dance, complete with twirls that lifted the tails of the shirt to her waist and bent her backward in close huddles that pressed her pussy even harder against his leg.

Whether from the exercise or the stimulation, she stopped in the middle of the next song with a hand on her panting chest and begged for a break. Flopping back on the bed with her legs over the edge, she displayed the blond/pink pubic hair at the opening of the shirt for both of us.

"You guys look terrific dancing that way," I said, partly to divert his attention from her heaving chest and partly because I hadn't said it before.

"Bob's such a terrific dancer, anybody would look good," she said, sitting part way up again and modestly covering herself before crossing her legs and grabbing her beer glass.

"Too bad I can't dance with you like that," I told her.

"Yeah, what the heck. Come on," he said, getting back up from where he'd sprawled again. "I'll show you."

He stood in front of me with his hand out, smiling.

"No wait. Take off your shoes and shirt. Don't want you stomping on my toes either," he laughed. "Besides, I need to wizz right quick." He walked into the bathroom and we could clearly hear him peeing.

"You having fun?" I asked her as she watched me taking off my shoes and socks.

"Yeah I really am. And Bob's so nice." I nodded and pulled open the snaps of my shirt. She was staring at my skinny, hairless chest when I looked up.

"Quite a difference, huh?" I said. She shrugged. Obviously, she didn't disagree and nervously didn't look at me.

***

"Ahhhh there we go," Bob said as he returned to the room still zipping his tight jeans, bringing both our attention to his very obvious hard-on under the zipper line all the way to his belt buckle. As if to point it out even more fully, he partially lifted a foot and adjusted it to one side.

Though it showed a considerable bulge through the pants, I realized that he wasn't completely hard or, maybe, not hard at all.

In a few steps, he stood smiling in front of me, looking at my chest, his hand out to take mine and pull me to my feet. Without hesitation, he put me in the female dancing position and began moving to the music. Giving me soft instructions, before the end of that song, I was held tight to his chest feeling the hair tickle mine, had been bent over backward twice to press against his thigh and hard-on, and twirled once with the accompanying comment that it was cuter when a full skirt flared out with the twirl. We laughed but he looked at me pointedly and I found myself blushing.

A second and third song allowed me to follow his movements much more easily. I was actually having fun dancing (something unheard of) and Michelle was making positive comments about how good I was doing. Somehow it was totally bizarre that my wife was complimenting me on dancing well as a female.

"Hey you know you really should let me show Michelle how she looks dancing," he said to me. "Come on. There's nobody here but us and we don't care, right Michelle?"

She wasn't enthusiastic about the idea and really didn't say much but he was more and more insistent until he actually took me to the bathroom and shut the door behind me. Knowing what I was expected to do, I slipped out of my pants and briefs before stepping into her panties, bra, skirt, and shirt. Her feet were far too small for me to wear the boots, of course, even if they had been in the room. Feeling more than a little foolish, I went back into the room and stopped. In profile to me, they stood almost as they had been all night during slow dances. The difference being that she was standing on one foot as he held the other up against the side of his thigh, his other hand in the opening of the front of the shirt on her breast. Her arms were again around his neck but her head was far back and I could see his tongue deep in her mouth.

As his hand moved on her breast or, more probably, on her nipple, her center pumped against his leg.

Catching the movement of my return from the corner of his eye, he broke the kiss, lowered her leg to the floor, and partially turned to me without taking his hand out of the shirt. On tiptoe again, she slowly turned her head toward me. Her eyes slowly scanned down from my face to my bare feet and back up as her mouth came open.

Gently, he removed his hand from the front of the shirt and moved her back to the bed. She still stared at me open-mouthed as Bob moved to me and swept me up in another dance, my back to her. I knew what she'd see as he twirled me in front of him, keeping me moving with a hand on my hip before pulling me back against him.

I tried to meet her eyes to see her reaction as he guided me through dancing to two more songs but somehow, he got between us or had my back turned to her all the time.

I wasn't comfortable but I was at least accepting what was going on until a slow song came on. He enfolded me in his arms as he had Michelle, his hands on my butt holding me on tiptoe against his thigh and the hard bulge. To keep my balance, I was forced to put my hands on his shoulders. Embarrassed, I knew that it looked as if I were holding myself against him but he knew that his hands on my ass were keeping me in the position.

There was nowhere for me to retreat as he lowered his mouth to my lips, his tongue demanding entry I refused him until he pinched, I gasped, and his tongue slid in. A moment later, I didn't want him to stop. Simply, it felt too good.

It really wasn't me moving my middle against his leg. His fingers on my butt forced it. At least, at first. The combination of that stimulation and the continuing kisses was actually turning me on tremendously. I was very grateful when he moved me back to my chair where I could quickly sip at the beer while I tried to control my blushes.

When I looked up, he was sitting beside Michelle on the bed and had the shirt unbuttoned. There was no denying that she was responding both to his deep kiss and the hand that cupped her breast, the nipple protruding between two fingers.

***

"I can't tell you how uncomfortable these pants are getting," he said, moving away from her a little before undoing the heavy buckle, top button, and zipper. "Whew," he said as a mass jumped out of the restraint. Michelle was staring at it, her tongue tracing her lips. As he leaned back and pushed them down his legs, both of us stared at it.

Yes, it was the same familiar shape I lived with and had given Michelle pleasure with. But the comparison broke down almost immediately from there. The most obvious was that while I was circumcised, he wasn't. His foreskin covered the flare of the head and only half an inch of the dark red head peeked out of the circle of it at the tip. Second, the vein along the underside of it stood out like a second smaller trunk of a tree growing alongside an old pine. As he pushed the faded jeans off one foot with the other, we both saw it flop against his stomach all the way up to his hair framed bellybutton. The pubic hair was dark and a thick thatch that obscured the base of it. As he spread his legs, his balls were visible where they sat on the bedspread. Though obscured by the hair, I could see they were the size of golf balls.

Where my cock is probably the length of my fingers, this one was already the length of my hand and fingers. And where mine is about an inch wide and is easy for my hand to encircle, his was more than twice as wide and I wasn't sure I could touch my middle finger to my thumb around it. I thought I could but I wasn't sure.

He sighed with the pure pleasure of having it free and stroked the loose foreskin down off the fat head of it. I watched as it hardened more and curved toward his body in an arc that wasn't quite 90 degrees but was close. Looking up into his eyes, he smiled broadly back at me. I noticed that Michelle was still staring at it with her lips parted.

He smiled at the way she was looking at it but more broadly at me as he stroked it a few times. Amazingly, it lengthened further up his stomach beyond his bellybutton. The loose foreskin wasn't covering any of the head now, indicating to me that he was fully hard, though it still slid into folds on the shaft. His big balls jumped in their sack as he reacted to the stimulation.

Obviously, having the two of us staring at his equipment was a big turn on for him and, though I would react differently because of my much smaller equipment, as would anyone looking at it, I could understand that. "It's okay if you want to kiss it," he said softly, looking directly into my eyes, but I saw Michelle gasp and lift her eyes to his before looking back down at it.

"Can I touch it?" she said as an alternative. She never has liked the idea of sucking a guy including me.

"Of course, honey," he said, moving his hand and watching as hers went to the thick cock. Though bigger than hers, my hands are comparatively small. Now I could clearly see that what I'd thought was true. She wrapped her fingers around it to move up and down along it and her middle finger and thumb were half an inch from touching. Still licking her lips, she moved her fingers up and down it, skinning the foreskin tight and then up to pucker under the flared head. The head was now purple.

"Go ahead and kiss it," he said softly. "It's okay."

Still staring at it she said, "I sort of like the first taste," absently. Then she lowered her mouth to lick the open pee slit before kissing around the same spot. His hand moved to the back of her neck as his focus softened but still concentrated on me. She kissed it several times and licked again before moving back away.

"It's okay if you want to go ahead," he said.

"No, I'd rather not," she said softly though her hand was still around it, she still licked her lips, and she still stared at it as if she were a dog and it was a bone.

"Do you think Amy would like to do it?" he asked softly. First she frowned, her concentration broken, looked up at him, and followed his line of sight to me. I'd stiffened when he said that because it was my chatroom name. At first her look at me was just confused then she looked me up and down again, the way I was sitting with my knees crossed like a woman. In a way, I thought her look changed to disgust and then a kind of disinterest. Then she shrugged and returned her interest to the cock still in her hand. "Come here, Amy," he said and crooked a finger at me behind her back. When I blanched and nervously started to shake my head, he frowned.

I sighed at the inevitability of my continued humiliation and slowly got up from the chair.

***

Feeling the unusual constrictions and tugs of the panties and bra along with the equally unusual swirl of the short skirt and form fitting blouse/shirt, I walked to a spot in front of them.

"Just kneel down here," he said gently and I did it. After all, this was at least somewhat my idea. It was just the reality of actually doing it that was the problem, not the idea. I knelt between his knees, seeing the tangles of hair on the insides of his thighs, and waiting. He reached to me and, bowing my head slightly, he pulled the rubber band out of the hair at the back of my head. Smiling into my eyes as he ran his fingers through my hair, he turned to Michelle. "Did you bring some makeup?" he asked her. I gasped at how far he was taking it. She said yes and got up, went to the bathroom, and returned with her purse. "I think just lipstick this time," he said and she shuffled through the full purse and found it. He held my chin while he frowned, chewed on his tongue, pursed his lips, and grimaced while he put lipstick on me.

"There we go. Much better."

Seamlessly, he took his long cock in a pair of fingers and thumb to bend its hardness toward me. At the same time, he used a hand at the back of my neck to pull me further up on my knees and toward it. When I glanced at Michelle, she was licking her opened lips and staring at my lips and the nearing cockhead. Still seeing her out of the corner of my eye as I looked at the large drop of pre-cum opening the slit at the end of his cock, I saw her open her mouth as if she, instead of me, were doing it. It was like a woman feeding a baby, opening her own mouth as the baby took the spoonful of pasty baby food.

Opening my lips, I took the head in and licked the drop of pre-cum from the tip.

"That's it baby," he sighed. It spurred me to take more of the fat head into my lips, the flare of it behind my teeth. His hand, though resistible still, was insistently pulling my head toward him. In some effort to determine my own fate, my hands went to his massive thighs though I rose higher over the long mass. Wanting it and knowing there was nothing to prevent me, I lowered onto it until it touched the back of my mouth. He sighed. Michelle gasped.

Whatever the fallout in the future, I'd done it now. If I ran, I'd still be a cocksucker in his mind and in Michelle's.

For several minutes, I think they were totally frozen in a tableau that included his enjoyment and her surprise. Maybe even her pleasure at watching it. I'm not sure. But I was animated in stroking my mouth and hand up and down its length. My other hand explored his heavy balls - far heavier than the golf balls I'd initially thought they resembled - and the sensitive spots below them that no one but the most intimate ever touched. I even edged the tip of my middle finger into his ass a little and teased him with it to little effect. Yes he sighed and moaned at the feel of my lips on his cock and my touches, but that was all. The only real change I could hear was Michelle's quickened breathing. She was getting super turned on and, when I opened my eyes and looked toward her, I saw that his thick fingers were thoroughly exploring her clitoris and vagina as her center squirmed up and down to accept his manipulation.

Pulling my hair slightly, he stopped what I was doing. I knew without a doubt that I would have cum at least once if I'd been sitting in his position instead of mine. In fact, as I moved my mouth back to the head, licked, and then back to just a kiss at the leaking tip, I thought he might still cum in my mouth. But he didn't.

"It's time, honey," he said as he stared into my eyes. I knew he was saying it was time to fuck and decision time for me. Did I want to move up and take him in my ass right then, or did I want him to follow through on what he'd said he'd do with Michelle. Indecisive, I sat back on my heels and, given that message, he half guided and half lifted Michelle into a squatting position over his massive cock. As she was busy watching what he was doing with her, I had the opportunity to see the mass of milky wetness in the folds of her pussy.

"Hold your cunt open for me, Michelle," he said crudely as he held his cock upright and poised only an inch below her opening. She moaned and reached between her spread legs with the fingers of both hands. Carefully, she pulled the folds of her labia apart, showing me still more of the milky discharge, and hung poised over him. For a moment, it was a lewd picture in a gallery, frozen in time and unmoving. But she couldn't stand it and slowly lowered herself against the massive head. Knee-walking forward slightly, she aligned herself better with it and squealed as she sat back more and the head popped into her body.

"Oh god!" she moaned. "It's ... so ... ahhh ... big ... ahh ... oh." Her body was seemingly turning inside out as the shaft drew her labia inside. When the skin outside was stretched tight, he put his hands on her waist, almost reaching around her body completely like a wide belt, and lifted her slightly. Then he pressed her down hard just as the labia had reappeared. Her hands on his wrists, she threw her head back and chest forward as she cried out with a mixture of wild pleasure and obvious pain.

Having by far the best vantage point for observing, I could see that a little more than half of the broad cock was inside her as the muscles of her stomach, thighs, and, no doubt, vagina spasmed around it. More slowly, he began a steady progression of lifting and lowering her on himself until only a little over two inches of the mass was outside of her body. On one downward movement of her body, she cried out again and all of us knew he was against her cervix.

"Come on, sissy," he said and I realized he was talking to me. "Sissy Amy. It's time for you to show her how nice you can suck her clit. Like you sucked my cock, sissy. Sissy cocksucker. You know you're married to a sissy cocksucker don't you, Michelle. But you just love having a real cock buried up your cunt, don't you?"

She twisted her head around to look at him with a disapproving look but he chose that moment to lift and drop her onto the cock again and she squealed again with the pressure against her cervix. The few times I'd gotten turned on enough to touch it while we fucked, she told me it hurt and she didn't like it at all.

"Suck her fucking wet cunt, sissy. Do it now," he said softly but pointedly. I leaned forward and licked her clit and then sucked it. She gasped, squirmed, and moaned as I did it.

Laying back on the bed and pulling her back with him, he moved his cock up and down inside her.

"That's got to be uncomfortable, Michelle," he said softly. "Sissy! Help her straighten out her legs. Come on. Be some use."

Mostly, of course, she shifted to one side and then the other to straighten her uncomfortably bent back lower legs but I tried to help as I licked and kissed the inside of her thighs and her wet clit.

"Michelle, I gave the sissy Amy a choice. I told her she could take this big cock. I think that's what the sissy really wants, you know. But I told her that if she didn't, I'd have to either take your sweet little ass ...."

"My god, noooo!!!!" she squealed and he chuckled.

"Or I could put a full load through your cervix right into your womb. I'm not even sure how many k**s of mine are running around the world. Guaranteed though that if I put it in your womb, there's a real good chance you're going to have one of them." As if to show her how possible it was, he arched his cock up into her and against her cervix again.

"No!" she squealed. An expletive. "No. Fuck ... uh ... fuck her. Fuck the sissy. Fuck Amy."

"You won't mind?"

"No," she moaned. "No. Go ahead."

"You're sure?" he said, punctuating it with a thrust into her.

"Ahhh! I'm sure."

"You want me to fuck your sissy husband. That's what you mean?"

"Yes. Fuck!!" he thrust into her hard again. "Yes fuck him."

"Sissy. Your wife wants me to fuck you. Get your ass into the bathroom. Make your pussy nice and clean for me. Then find something to make it nice and slippery so I don't have any problem getting it in. Do it now!" I got up and almost ran toward the bathroom.

"I'm going to fuck her hard, sissy, until you get your cute little ass back in here. And I'm getting pretty close. You never can tell when I'm going to cum. Definitely in her womb. I'm sure of it." Running the last steps into the bathroom, I heard her cry out again and then muffled sounds before I ran the water over a washcloth. Quickly pulling off the panties, I washed between my legs and my asshole as good as I could with soap before squeezing the washcloth out and rinsing it. I heard her cry out again and hurriedly looked through all the little bottles of bubblebath and "soft-soap" and instant copies of those things before I found a little bottle of hand lotion that I prayed would work.

Ignoring how I might look or how I felt, I pressed the bottle to my asshole and squeezed, feeling the liquid squirt into me. Laying on the floor with my ass in the air, I squeezed until I thought it must be empty before moving the bottle around to where I could see that it was true. I put my hand back to the tiny tight opening and slid a finger into myself easily. Pleased with myself, I got up off the floor and heard Michelle cry out again and then moan loudly with what could only be another orgasm.

Carefully moving back into the main room, I saw him look up at me and slowly pull out of my wife who was now laying face down on the bed with her legs spread lewdly. As I crawled up onto the bed, I noticed that there was another of those dollops of her cum at that more widely opened pussy hole. I could see that her little pucker of asshole was just that. Tiny, a pucker, and tightly closed. He at least hadn't fucked her ass as he'd threatened. Since she wasn't moving, I didn't know what else had happened.

He stroked his big cock that looked like it had before he'd put it inside her as he smiled at me.

"She's a great fuck," he said to me. "But not anywhere close to as good as you're going to be, sissy. Right?"

Totally in control of the situation, he moved over to me, put his big arm around my chest, and kissed me with his tongue almost diving down my throat. As the kiss continued, his hand went to my lifted ass, traced down between my little ass cheeks, and found my hole there. A finger slid easily and gently into my body until I was sure no more would go in and the tip moved against my prostate. It slid out agonizingly pleasurably and was joined by a second. That one was almost too much.

"You did a pretty good job. You like this, don't you?"

"Yes. It feels good." He pulled the fingers to the opening and added a third. That one stretched and hurt. I gasped.

"That feels good too huh?"

"Yes," I sighed.

"Then it must be time to fuck you. Don't you think, sissy?"

"Yes. Fuck me."

"Tell Michelle."

"I want him to fuck me, Michelle," I said though I couldn't see her with him between us.

"You want me to fuck your sissy asshole, right?"

"Yes. Fuck my sissy asshole. Please fuck me."

Twisting up behind me, he pressed the head of his cock against my ass and pushed. I squealed as the head popped into me. It hurt more than anything I could remember. One second of the worst pain I'd ever felt. But, as he froze poised over me, it eased quickly.

"That's it, baby," he whispered as I relaxed. Slowly, he pressed forward into me until my stretched skin hurt again and I stiffened. He stopped as if feeling exactly how far he could go. His hand under my stomach, holding me in place, he moved out slightly before again slowly pressing forward into me and stopping. I thought he must be close to all the way inside me but as he repeated the little retreat and slow entry three more times, I realized he wasn't until I felt it press against something far far inside me that caused a little pain. "All right! God you're deep. I like that," he moaned against my ear.

Still slow and gentle, he pulled back and moved forward against the internal barrier. Each stroke seemed to get longer and about the third in and out movement, the flared head of it stroked my prostate. When I began stiffening and moaning with that wildly exciting stroke, ending in the slightly painful pressure against the internal barrier, he continued with that long stroke.

"If you weren't so fucking hot, I'd never be able to do this," he said as he fucked me with the long strokes. I didn't know what he meant. "Usually, after I cum, I'm too soft to even get into a super tight asshole like yours."

I couldn't say anything as my mind and body concentrated on what he was doing to me. It seemed impossible he was apologizing, in a way, for not being as hard as possible.

"I guess Michelle will have to tell you later what it felt like when my cock opened her cervix and the way the head locked up inside her womb," he said as he hardened even more.

"She loved having it that deep in her. You should have seen her cuming. One right after the other. And the way she was going insane inside, I just couldn't hold back."

Unbelievably, the combination of his constant stroking of my prostate with his long cock and what he was telling me made me come to my climax. I was squirting my seed against the inside of the skirt and on the bedspread as he stiffened.

"God yes, baby! That's it! Cum all over! Make me cum!" My insides were spasming around him as my climax continued and his movements became less coordinated. "Jesus, I can't believe you're going to make me cum after I just filled your wife's cunt with it."

As if the words demanded the act, I felt him spasm and hot liquid fill my guts. For a moment he simply groaned with pleasure and release before squeezing me tightly.

"You know," he panted against my neck as he held me, "if I thought you'd be having my baby, too, this would be perfect."

***

Insisting that it was perfect, he got off me, stood up, took his time dressing and picked up his things, kissed us both chastely, and went out the door.

For a long time, I laid there on my stomach. I could still feel the lessening pain of having his big cock in me, both deep inside and at the tight opening that had been stretched. Shifting only a tiny bit made his cum move in my bowels as if announcing its living presence. I could also feel the wetness of my own cum against my softened cock and stomach. Mentally I was totally screwed up.

I'd asked for this. My humiliation couldn't possibly be more total. He'd fucked my wife and made me watch. He'd seduced her. Made her want it. He'd made me dress in her clothes. Even if we'd planned that, he'd ... MADE me do it. He made me look like I'd wanted to dress on my own. He'd made me tell him to fuck me.

I felt tears on my cheeks.

Worse. He told me he wouldn't cum in her if I did what he asked but he had. He'd made good on his threat to cum in her womb. That's what he said. He'd told me he wouldn't if I hurried and I hurried as fast as I could.

My god! What if she was ovulating? What if she got pregnant? What if she had his baby?

I turned my head and looked at Michelle.

She was just laying there on her back in the same position she'd been in when I returned to the room. Naked, her breasts rose and dropped with her breathing. Was she sleeping? Her legs were still spread lewdly just as I'd seen when I came back into the room. Maybe she'd passed out. The drinks? Maybe. Maybe she didn't hear what happened. Maybe I could get out of her clothes before she knew. Maybe everything was ok. Maybe ...

"You liked it," she said as if that was the most important thing that had happened. Her head turned toward me, her eyes looking into mine. "He said you wanted this. Wanted to dress in my clothes and have him fuck you. You wanted him to fuck me like he did."

There wasn't any inflection in her words. Like she didn't care or didn't understand.

"I saw how much you liked it, the way he talked to you and what he did to you. What he said about cuming in me. You liked it."

"Michelle ..." I choked out through building tears.

"He was right. He told me you were more of a slut than I am. He said you'd beg for it. That you'd do anything to have his cock in you. And you did just like he said." She sounded hard. Not happy at all.

"Michelle I ..."

"Because of you, we have to meet him next Friday."

"What? Meet ..."

"He said he knew what you wanted and that if he was right, we have to meet next Friday and he was. Except next Friday, we get a room here and you stay in the room to get really dressed up. I go to the lounge where he'll meet me." She got quiet for a bit as I tried to catch my breath. "He told me to make sure and not wear panties because he wants to make me cum before we leave the lounge. He said ... he said maybe he'll be really turned on and just fuck me wherever we are. In a hall or table or ..." She stopped talking but was panting.

"He said after a while we'll come to the room and dance but you have to be really pretty or he'll just fuck me however he wants."

"He told me he'd fuck your ass if I didn't get dressed and let him do it to me," I said rather weakly. "W-why I did it."

"No he told me before that you talked and set it all up. That you wanted to dress in my clothes and get fucked." She sighed. "He told me you wanted him to fill my womb with his cum but he wasn't so sure because I could get pregnant."

"He told me he'd only do that if I didn't hurry," I told her.

"He told me all that stuff while we danced. Before we came to the room at all. I didn't believe him. About you anyway. Well, that he could do ... you know the part about being that big. I didn't think anybody was ... that big."

"Did it hurt?"

"Did it hurt in you?" she asked.

"Yes." I realized she was saying it had and, without saying it, that it was worth it.

My mind flew with all the new information and my feelings, rejections, acceptance.

"Tomorrow we'll go shopping," she said as I had almost decided that no matter what, it had all gone far enough. "We'll buy two or three pairs of shoes for you and some panties and bras. You'll have to wear them as much as possible this week to get comfortable with the feel of them."

"N-next Friday? Y-you w-want to ..."

"Oh yes. Of course. By next week you should be pretty good at, ah, everything." She actually chuckled. "You know he even said he has a couple of friends who might be interested in coming sometime.

"Anyway, I'm going to wear your pants and shirt home but I think your shoes would look funny with my skirt and blouse so I guess you'll have to get to the car barefoot. Come on."

She sat up then, pulling her legs closed with a moan and moving to the edge of the bed.

***

So that's how I ended up riding home in a skirt and blouse and starting my non-working time wearing dresses and high heels. Of course, Bob was at the bar when we arrived the next Friday and, of course, I left her with him to go to the room to dress in the sexiest things I'd worn yet. When they finally arrived at the room an hour later, Michelle's eyes were glistening with the remains from being made to cum at a table and again on his cock in a hallway.

He watched me clean his cum from her pussy though I didn't taste anything of him - probably because it was so deeply buried in her. He did get a charge out of applying the KY jelly we'd brought with us that time to my ass with a couple of his big fingers. A few minutes later, my legs were lifted high in the air behind his surging middle as he fucked me face to face while Michelle kissed me and told me to relax and enjoy it, playing absently with the long wig we'd bought during the week.

I was the only one dressed as we took turns dancing with Bob for an hour or so before he fucked us both again. I sucked him off before he left.

And the pattern was set to some extent.

I dressed in women's clothes all the time I wasn't at work, my wife seemed to get sexier and sexier, and Fridays always included Bob. Of course, the third meeting Bob brought another man with him who spent his time fucking Michelle over and over again while Bob paid attention to me.

Tonight Bob says he's bringing two different guys who are interested in initiating Michelle's ass and doing a double penetration with her. Surprisingly, she's really excited at the prospect.

She tells me that she gets so hot watching Bob and I dance and make out.